


Good Boy

by blankiehxrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Fingering, M/M, Needy Harry, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Smut, Sub Harry, Top Louis, mentions of subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:34:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankiehxrry/pseuds/blankiehxrry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry wins the British Style Award, gets tipsy off champagne, and needs Louis to fuck him. That's about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> ahh alright so here it is. alexis (@rosebudstyles) and i had a long talk about this before i wrote it so i had tons of ideas to work off of. hopefully it worked out :)
> 
> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/theofficeharry)

When Harry originally received the invitation to the British Fashion Award Show, he was a bit confused, because. Like. The fans on Twitter might not have thought so, but Harry was fully aware that his clothes weren’t always in fashion. He knew that stripes didn’t go with plaid, that wearing jeans with more holes than fabric wasn’t exactly dubbed appropriate. But what he did know was that Louis always got a kick out of seeing him wear these ridiculous outfits, so he did.

It’s not like he hadn’t attended about a half dozen fashion shows in past few months, but this was even bigger because he was nominated for the British Style Award. He was so excited too, knowing that other people liked what he wore. One of Harry’s favorite things was to be praised. It probably wasn’t his best quality, but it made him feel special. And being praised for his outfits made him feel _pretty_.

So, if he spent an entire three hours standing in front of his closet figuring out what to wear, well then no one had to know. Except Louis had come bounding in at the last second and had made Harry close his eyes as he rifled through his shirts and picked out the most ridiculous shirt and scarf pairing.

“ _Louuu,_ ” Harry had whined. “I’m up for an award for best fashion; I have to look the part.” He knew Louis couldn’t resist his pouty lips.

“Don’t you worry your beautiful little head, Haz. They’ll think you’re a trendsetter. And since I can’t go with you, what better way than to leave my mark on you?”

At that Harry shut up because the idea of Louis dressing Harry to show the world he was _his_ was something Harry couldn’t pass up.

So, now. Harry had braved the red carpet, stopping for pictures with prestigious fashion icons and interviews where he had to shamefully admit he only owned two pairs of decent jeans. Now he was sitting around a table with a batch of unrecognizable faces, save for Ben and his wife. Harry was cut-off mid-sentence – he’d been telling the group a story about one of their last shows in Japan (‘Lou’d been so excited, you just knew he had a brilliant idea tucked up his sleeve’) –when suddenly a spot-light was shining on his face and he was being ushered to the stage.

Alexa, who Harry would argue was dressed far better than him and therefore much more deserving of the award, was standing off to the side and presented Harry with what looked like. Well. It looked like a long block, which generally wouldn’t have much meaning but suddenly it came with a label and stood as a symbol to Harry’s ‘impecible style’.

As he approached the podium, Harry considered making some kind of pun about style and his second name being Styles, but figured the crowd might not quite react the way he wanted.

After curtly accepting the award (he wasn’t quite accustomed to making speeches when he couldn’t feel the press of four other bodies by his side), Harry returned to the table where Ben had ordered another round of drinks.

The table group extended their congratulations to Harry and clinked glasses and the show continued on.

-

About three glasses in, the edges of Harry’s vision were blurry and he was casually attempting to hide his half hard cock by resting his hands on his legs. It was his worst habit, getting tipsy and simultaneously aroused. He fleetingly wished Louis was with him so they could run to the toilets and Louis could suck Harry off to keep him at bay until they got home and properly fuck.

His attention was diverted when Ben started talking to Harry about ideas for their next music video. Harry tried desperately to pay attention, latch on to any idea that wasn’t something to do with his erection, but found himself distracted by Ben’s mouth. How awful it was, staring at Ben like that with his wife sitting between them, but Harry couldn’t find it in himself to care.

It was only about an hour later that Ben’s wife excused herself, saying she had to work in the morning and that she knew the boys would have much more fun without her anyway. Harry kissed her cheeks goodbye, and ignored the feeling of satisfaction she was gone.

As they walked out into the biting cold air, Ben mentioned an after-party at some sort of Playboy club. Harry knew that pictures of him walking into that kind of club might promote some bad press, but he went with his gut and asked Ben if they could stop by.

They picked up a cab and within a few minutes were arriving into the packed club. At one end was a bar with bright colored liquids lining the shelves and Harry could hear the distant clinking of glasses. In the far back was a dance floor, packed with writhing bodies swaying to the heavy bass that thumped overhead. There were girls dressed in all sorts of skimpy lace outfits, tails on their behinds and ears on their heads. It wasn’t really Harry’s thing, unless he was the one wearing it.

Their first stop was the bar where they promptly had several shots that had Harry seeing stars in minutes. Ben laughed and grabbed his hand, dragging them both out to the dance floor. Where Ben quickly picked up a girl to dance with, Harry stood in the center of the floor, his vision already too blacked out for him to see much else but the flashing strobe light.

“Care to dance?” Came a husky voice from behind him. Harry tried to turn in an attempt to see who it was, but a pair of hands came and locked him in place. The stranger didn’t wait for an answer before he began to grind his front filthily into Harry’s bum, rubbing his hands up and under Harry’s shirt, over his tummy and past his perky nipples.

Sense of touch heightened due to his lack of proper sight, Harry moaned contentedly and allowed himself to be pulled back into the warm embrace, let his body go limp in the stranger’s arms and be used. They stayed like that for a long while, Harry’s head thrown back and his eyes shut, mouth uttering a few whimpers every time the man tightened his grip on Harry’s slim waist. His front and Harry’s back slid together with tight friction and soon Harry was sweating, his hair damp and matted to his face. His pants were wildly strained and it didn’t help that this mystery man was whispering filthy things into Harry’s ear.

“Want you to come back with me,” the man whispered huskily, and Harry found himself nodding before he could even think to consider that it might be a bad idea. He was led back to a dark corner of the club, where he could make out a few cushiony seats filled with couples on top of each other. The stranger plopped himself onto one of the only available chairs and Harry was promptly dragged onto his lap.

“Wanna see you beg for it, princess,” the man whispered in Harry’s ear and he mewled, high and loud. “Show me what you can do with your pretty little arse.”

Slowly, hesitantly, Harry wrapped his arms around the man’s neck and began to grind down on his lap, rolling his hips and focusing on the sounds falling from his mouth.  His erection was digging into his thigh where it was trapped in his pants. Distantly he wondered where Ben had gotten off to but the thought was fleeting. He tucked his head into his neck and bit down harshly on the soft skin of his arm, something Louis would have done for him, were he here.

_Louis._

The sudden thought startled Harry so suddenly out of his drunken haze that he jumped to his feet, excusing himself from the stranger and waddling off to the bathroom, hands pressed politely to his front.

Safely locked inside a stall, Harry rested his forehead against the cool plastic of the door and reached into his back pocket, pulling out his phone and dialing a number he knew by heart.

“’ello?” Harry almost groaned upon hearing Louis voice, sultry and high-pitched.

“Louis,” Harry croaked. He couldn’t help it; he reached down and roughly palmed himself, relieving some of the pressure of his aching erection.

“Harry?” The amusement was clear in Louis voice but there, hidden in the back, was a hint of worry that Harry knew well. It always appeared when he called in the middle of an important event, which was not often, but had happened enough times to make Louis suspicious.

“Need you,” he managed to choke out.

The world was spinning off its axis and Harry was fighting to hold on. The black and white tiles on the ground began to mesh together as an effect of his drunken desire.

The other side of the line went quiet, the only sound audible being a soft whoosh of breath.

“Harry, isn’t this a bad time?” Louis fought to keep calm. Sometimes, Louis knew, it was the only way to get Harry to settle, for his stuttering heartbeat to slow and his cheeks to lose their pink. When he was drunk he acted like a child.

“The worst but – _fuck_ – Louis, I need you to get me I need you to touch me right now.” Harry was whining now, this tone of voice reserved for desperate measures.

“ _Shit,_ Harry. Okay, okay. Text me the address. I’m coming. Wait out front.” The line went dead and Harry almost sobbed with relief.

After waiting until he could see without spots blurring his vision, Harry went outside where he stood under the awning of the club. He could barely make out the street through the dark. He was grateful that the paps seemed to have gone home, or else they were waiting in the shadows. After a few minutes he heard footsteps behind him.

“Harry?” Harry turned around to find Ben behind him, his hands shoved in his pockets, his expression confused. “Where’re you off to?”

Harry hesitated only a moment before, “Just not feeling all that well, figured I’d get Louis to pick me up.”

“Well, that’s too bad to hear.” Ben stepped closer, reaching out and patting Harry on the back. “Proud of you tonight, kiddo.”

As if all his previous efforts were nonexistent, Harry felt his pants tent and his eyes rolled back in his head a bit. _Kiddo._

“Thanks, Ben,” he whispered.

Thankfully, a flash of headlights saved him from having to explain his odd behavior. With a quick wave to Ben, Harry flung open the door and dashed down the steps. He wrenched open the car door and let out a cry when he saw Louis behind the wheel, beanie pulled over his floppy fringe and body tucked up into a fleece jacket and a pair of Harry’s own sweats.

“ _Fuck._ ” Harry couldn’t help himself, stretched his long body over the console and attached his lips to Louis’. Without hesitation, the older boy kissed back hungrily, licking into all the ridges and crevices of Harry’s mouth. Harry slid a hand down to Louis’ sweats, feeling for what he knew he would find.

As soon as his hand made contact, the kissing was over. Louis shoved Harry back onto his seat and ordered him to buckle up before the sped off down the road back to their flat. The ride was quiet, besides Harry’s heavy breathing. Through hooded eyes he watched as Louis drove, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. His brain was still tipsy off the alcohol and he sniffled, rubbing his tired eyes and attempting to palm away some of the aching pain in his pants.

“None of that, love,” Louis spared a glance to Harry, who cried with frustration.

“Been waiting so long,” Harry pouted, jutting out his lower lip and looking out the window. Alcohol brought out his inner five year old.

Just barely in the dark, Harry noticed that the car began to slow. Louis pulled off onto the side of the road and cut the engine, turning to stare at Harry with stern eyes.

“You know I don’t like when you’re impatient Harry,” Louis began, giving him a once-over with his eyes.

Harry huffed out, “Just want you so bad, Lou. ‘m sorry.”

Louis ran a hand over his face, hesitating for a moment before he unbuckled his seatbelt and motioned for Harry to do the same. “Come over here on my lap.” Louis patted his thigh and watched as Harry fought back a grin and scrambled over to the other side of the car.

With some creative maneuvering, Louis managed to shove Harry’s jeans down to his knees and he squeezed the plump swell of his arse before freeing two of his fingers and coaxing them into Harry’s mouth.

Harry moaned loudly, and used his tongue to desperately suck in the two digits. Louis rubbed the pad of his thumb over Harry’s cheek and tugged his hand out, tapping Harry’s thigh as a signal for him to lift up.

“Gonna get you all ready, Haz. Gonna get you ready and then we’ll head home okay?” Louis held Harry up with one arm while the other traced down under his boxers and around his rim.

Harry’s eyes were already prickled with tears, and when Louis pushed one finger in up to the knuckle, they began to drip down his cheeks. He was so overwhelmed with want and need and pleasure it was hard to stay conscious and focused. He blinked in quick succession, trying to stay awake.

And it wasn’t like they hadn’t tried _that_ before. Subspace wasn’t an unfamiliar topic between the two. The first time it had happened to Harry, Louis had been a wreck, wrenching and shaking Harry until he gasped and choked his way into consciousness, wide-eyed and scared. After some Google searches, they discovered it wasn’t unnatural, but Harry tried his best to fight it off if he ever felt like he was about to lose it. The feeling was discomforting for the both of them.

Now, his head fell forward as Louis started thrusting in and out, twisting and rubbing inside of Harry until – “ _shit,_ Lou, yeah.” Louis slowed, realizing he’d found where Harry was most sensitive, and slid in a second finger before hitting the spot determinedly.

“Ah, fuck, Louis, please – “ Harry was babbling, another bad habit when he got like this. He loved feeling filled up, stretched out, used. He rocked back on Louis’ fingers, meeting his thrusts halfway.

“Tell me when you’re getting close,” Louis grunted. His head was hooked over Harry’s shoulder, presumably looking down at where his fingers were sliding in and out of Harry. He was thrusting quicker now, short little stabs to his prostate and dragging slowly on his way out. The combined sensations had Harry panting, keening high in his throat and begging for anything, everything, _more._

A few minutes later, Harry began to tense, an earthquake building in his tummy and he barely managed to choke out Louis’ name before Louis pulled out, quickly gripping the base of Harry’s cock and stopping him.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Harry cried, desperate for release. The ghost of arousal disappeared just enough so that Louis let go of him and ushered him back into his own seat.

Harry grumbled and plopped himself back on the other side of the car, pants still around his knees that were tucked up to his chest, tear stains on his cheeks, and the head of his cock resting pink and full on his tummy. He sniffled and laid his head on the window.

“No whining, Harry,” Louis scolded him. “It’s not polite.”

Harry rolled his eyes when he knew Louis wasn’t looking and entertained himself by tracing patterns in the condensation that was stuck to the window until they arrived home.

Before they got out Harry wiggled back into his pants and gingerly hopped out of the car, still sensitive from earlier. Louis was quiet as he led them up the walkway and unlocked the door. Harry leaned against the wall, knees shaking as he tried to hold himself up.

As soon as the boys were safely inside, Louis pinned Harry against the wall and reached down to roughly grab the bulge in his pants.

“So fucking needy, Harry,” Louis whispered, breath hot on Harry’s ear. “Can’t even fucking wait until we get home; it’s like you perpetually need my cock in your arse.”

Harry remained silent, but his eyes fluttered close and he nodded frantically.

“Why don’t you admit it then?” Louis’ tongue snaked out and licked a hot stripe up Harry’s neck.

“I need it,” Harry managed to breathe out. “I need your cock, Lou.”

“My lovely, lovely boy.” Louis helped Harry shove his pants off and flung them somewhere behind him before hiking the younger boy’s legs up and attaching them around his waist.

“Need you to be quiet now, got that? You’ll take what I give you and be a good boy.” Louis lined his cock up and slowly pushed into Harry. “Only patient boys get lube.”

Harry felt his whole body heat up like an oven, the thick press of Louis’ inside of him almost too much to handle. He moaned exceptionally loud once Louis had bottomed out and immediately regretted it.

“I told you to be quiet,” Louis scolded harshly and grabbed Harry’s hands so they were held up above his head. “Bad behavior earns you a punishment.”

Louis waited only a moment before thrusting into Harry with no reserve. The initial friction was quite dry due to the lack of lube but the more Louis pounded into him the more numb Harry became. His mouth threatened to betray him as he made little whimpers, so in an attempt to be quiet he turned his head to the side and bit down on the skin of his bicep. The mixed sensation of pain made him want to scream out louder, but he kept it in, a tide building low in his throat.

Louis had taken to holding Harry’s hand up with one hand while the other held tight on his hip, using it to move him up and drop him back down on his cock. Harry’s body hung limply in his grasp and he wanted so bad for Louis to grab his hair, yank and tug on it so that he could feel pain everywhere.

“Wanna – _ah_ – wanna touch myself, Lou.” Louis, so focused on trying to find Harry’s spot, didn’t hear him at first.

“ _Louis_.” Harry’s fingers made grabby hands from where they were suspended above his head.

Louis’ head shot up at that, his pupils blown wide with hungry lust.

Without slowing down Louis leaned forward until his lips were inches away from Harry’s.

“Only if you can keep quiet, angel. Can you do that for me?” Harry thought about it, nodded furiously, and Louis loosened his grip on Harry’s hands so he could reach down to tug at his cock.

“ _Mhm, fuck,”_ Harry sighed. The relief was so lovely, he forgot that he wasn’t supposed to make noise.

“Oh Harry,” Louis sighed, and quickly gathered Harry’s wrists up into his hand again.

“No, daddy please I’ll be good.” Louis’ thrusts faltered, and he tried to prevent himself from coming too soon. Harry only whipped out ‘daddy’ when he was really desperate and usually drunk. He knew it was the best way to get Louis to soften up on him.

“You know daddy has to be strict with you, princess, or else you’ll never learn.” Louis, sure he could handle himself now, started back on pounding up into Harry.

“ _Mm_ , but daddy,” Harry moaned, eyes closed and head thrown back.

“Are you really close, darling?” Louis pressed a quick kiss Harry’s forehead as he surged up into him.

“So close daddy, all because of you,” Harry cried out. A small tear dribbled out the corner of his eye and clung to his rosy, flushed cheek.

“Listen Harry, I’ll let you come, but you’re gonna do it again for daddy once you’re done okay? Think you can do twice in a row?”

Harry sobbed at that, already a wreck. “Yes, I think so.” He nodded his head vigorously. “For you.” His voice was shot and tears were falling out of his eyes and his hair was sweaty and stuck to his forehead.

“Good boy,” Louis praised. By now he was hitting Harry’s prostate on every thrust, watching as Harry mewled and whimpered. 

Within another minute, Harry was coming untouched, shooting up onto his butterfly tattoo and crying out so loudly that it echoed throughout the rest of the house. He fell forward and bit Louis’ shoulder to soften his cries, his legs shaking and tummy trembling with the force of his orgasm.

“Alright lovely boy, you have to come again for me, okay? I know you can do it, sweetheart, you’re such a good boy for me always.” Louis knew the only way to get Harry to comply would be to coax his baby through it.

“’s burning,” Harry whined. Louis could feel a wet patch on his shoulder where Harry was crying.

“Only a little longer, you can do it, love you so much baby,” Louis forced out, gritting his teeth. Harry was so tight and felt so good but he knew he wouldn’t come until Harry did.

It was silent for a few minutes, save for the thick sound of Harry and Louis’ labored breathing. Finally, Louis heard Harry begin to sob in earnest, and knew he must be close again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry managed to choke out. Louis, at some point, had let go of Harry’s hands but they had only wrapped themselves around Louis’, his fingers digging into the skin of Louis’ back. Louis leaned forward and kissed Harry’s temple, giving him the encouragement he needed.

“C’mon baby, you can do it for daddy. You’ll make me so proud.” Louis had slowed down, short and sweet thrusts to Harry’s spot until finally, with a gargled scream, Harry came for a second time, a small dribble over the tip of his cock. His body shook and his skin prickled with goosebumps and finally, finally Louis let the pleasure wash over himself and came, long and hard inside of Harry.

The two boys stayed stuck to each other, riding out their highs and calming their breathing. Harry had gone limp in Louis’ arms, and with great force Louis managed to pull him back so they were staring at each other.

“Such a perfect boy,” Louis whispered, brushing the hair off of Harry’s face and kissing his cheek. “Love you so much.”

Harry was exhausted and wrecked, but he smiled weakly at Louis. “Just like to make you proud,” he mumbled shyly.

“You always do, baby. Always make me so proud,” Louis kept a tight hold on Harry as he led them up the stairs.

“How about a nice bath and some cuddles?” Louis suggested conversationally, making their way into the bathroom.

“Yes please, daddy,” Harry giggled, and burrowed his smiling face into Louis’ shoulder.


End file.
